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March 22, 2000
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fifty-nine years Marriages are celebrated or denounced, but people are still amazed if you say you've been married more than a few years. When my parents told the kids at the Four Seasons that they'd been married 59 years, they were truly amazed. I guess so since it's probably longer than they've been alive...by about 2X. Ah, well. At work I realized that sometimes you just have to go back to the beginning and get the background you need to understand something. Frustrating, but true. My dad decided to put up some kind of bee house on our shed. Forrest was peeved about this, figuring it would attract some killer bees. He called me at work. I laughed. "Did he bring any dirt?" I asked. He's been threatening to move dirt. I was reminded of when Forrest's mother used to come to our house and clean up and manage to rearrange my stuff (even discard it or give it away sometimes). That doesn't happen anymore. Instead, it is me or the maids who mislay my stuff. Usually me. The parents also brought down a bunch of boxes of stuff. I told them that if I got rid of some of the stuff I didn't need, then I'd have room for the stuff they didn't need. They were not amused. Ah, well, they have gotten rid of some stuff. Everything you get rid of is a victory. This morning we put out our bag of stuff for the retarded citizen's pickup. There is great satisfaction in eliminating a few cubic feet of things that you will not even remember owning in a few weeks. To look at this house (especially this office) you'd think we never got rid of anything. In fact, there is always stuff piled around. But it is often different stuff than was here a week ago. I'm always rearranging, throwing something away, giving something away, loaning something. But then I get some new stuff. Or people return things. I'm always glad to get my stuff back...but where does one put it? SuRu wanted some help today...wanted me to talk her down from starting a collection of pineapples or chickens. I'm the wrong one to ask. The brain is a strange thing. Usually, it keeps everything going, knowing what's happening, communicating. My mother, though, has these spells where she can't think of any nouns she wants. Nouns especially. Oh, sure, it happens to all of us, but not the way it happens to her in spells. It is very frustrating for her. And everyone else around her. Today, one of the Nancys gave me an article about dyslexia. It had a little test to see if you were dyslexic. I flunked. Or passed as the case may be. The good news is that dyslexic people are reportedly more creative. I really do believe that in order to learn to read dyslexic people create unusual neural pathways.
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"Men marry because they are tired; women because they are curious. Both are disappointed." Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance |
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Celebration Dessert |
